Blackest Night
by ComradeAngel
Summary: An ordinary, unsuspecting teenager escapes a brutal mauling during a nighttime walk. Soon he is wishing that he died under that full moon.


**Disclaimer: No ownership of anything. If I were to own Let Me In or Let The Right One In, I would unintentionally ruin both franchises overnight and then cry myself to death as the sun rose.**

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Blake Gabriel Delacroix was not in a good place.

He had just wanted to take a shortcut home from school through the forest. He didn't even go off of the walking path. Then he met Jenny from school and they talked for a while, and suddenly he was walking alone in the dark under the full moon. Blake had heard bad things about the woods at night. Last month the captain of the football team was mugged on the path. _Jack Schroeder_ got mugged!

Blake just wanted to get home, calm his mother down, eat something, maybe watch some Supernatural, and go to bed.

He just couldn't shake the sensation that he was being watched. That someone was following him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he wrapped his arms around himself, teeth chattering. He had chosen not to wear a coat this morning, so he all that was protecting him from the cold Minnesota night air was a black short-sleeve shirt over a white long-sleeve shirt, along with some grey jeans and black sneakers. The black shirt had a crimson biohazard symbol on the front, reminiscent of one of Blake's favorite movies of all time, 28 Days Later. He loved the horror genre - movies, games, and books alike. That's why he could almost never trust his senses when he was getting creeped out or scared - his mind liked to play tricks on him after so much mental stabbing and trauma. He passed his feeling of being watched as just paranoia, and continued walking.

A twig cracked in the forest behind him.

Blake twirled around and studied the trees on either side of the path. He saw nothing, turned around, and began walking again, chastising himself for being so paranoid.

Another twig cracked. He ignored it. Probably a lost deer or something, trying to get its bearings. Yet another cracked.

Blake was getting nervous now, glancing behind him every so often. The teenager increased his pace as his heart began to thump in his chest. The trees seemed like they were closing in on them, every branch a clawed arm, every odd shape Slenderman stalking him.

Wait, Slenderman?

"Shut up, brain." he mumbled to himself. His paranoia was at its worst when he watched, played, or read things relating to the Slenderman mythos.

He ran a hand through his shaggy black bangs, dyed from the original chocolate brown color. He was beginning to sweat, even though he was freezing. He needed to occupy his mind with something cheery. PewDiePie? Kittens? Jenny? PewDiePie and Jenny holding kittens? Without thinking, he began to hum a tune, which he immediately recognized from the 28 Days Later soundtrack. No, not zombies too...zombies and Slenderman stalking him at the same time?

A towering evergreen rustled. He snapped his head in the direction of the noise, but was unable to pinpoint which tree it had come from. The night was almost totally without wind. Not even a breeze. He continued humming, becoming truly uneasy. The trees rustled even more. Birds, just birds. Or a windingo or something. Swell. Windingo, plus zombies, plus Slenderman. There would be a battle royale over his corpse. Two would devour it, and the other would do God knows what with it.

And then the battle began.

Something - no, some_one _- tackled him to the ground without warning with a terrifying, inhuman screech. Blake's head bashed against the blacktop and he saw stars, his vision suddenly fuzzy. Looking up at his assailant, who had managed to pin his arms beneath their legs, the first thing he noticed was the hair. Long, blonde, ratty hair that seemed the be greying and falling out in many places. The second things he noticed were the eyes. The eyes were almost completely white, save for small, pinpoint slits of pupils. The person, the...girl, wore nothing but a torn white night gown, exposing her chalk white skin, which had spiderwebs of extremely thin, red veins covering much of it. Immediately and automatically, Blake tried to kick the attacker off. He partially succeeded, throwing her off balance for a split second, allowing him to scramble backwards towards the edge of the path. The girl was quickly on him again, this time not leaving him any time to react. An iron grip held his head in a specific position as a vise seemed to clamp down on his neck. Blake screamed bloody murder, struggling beneath the girl. However, as strong as she was, she was also light. Blake wiggled his arms free and delivered a hard blow to her right temple. She remained unfazed. He delivered another blow to left side of her head, but once again she didn't even react to it. Rather than pound away with no effect, Blake reached out behind him, trying to grab something, even drag himself away. His hand closed on a hefty rock. A sickening slurping sound was coming from below his right ear and he felt a warm liquid flowing down his neck and soaking into his shirts' shoulders, as well as dripping onto the ground. He was becoming light headed. Dizzy. He slammed the rock into the girl's head with as much force as he could possibly muster, uttering a loud noise that was a mixture between a scream and a grunt; the girl's incredible grip, both on his head and neck, loosened as she fell to the ground beside him.

Blake scrambled to his feet. He was struck with horrible lightheadedness and stumbled backwards, tripping on another rock, falling on his butt. He stood once more, slower, more carefully, trying to cope with sudden tunnel vision and dizziness. The boy was aware of an alarming amount of blood gushing from his neck. Not knowing what else to do, he took off his black shirt and held it to the wound. Touching it filled him with searing pain, and he stumbled. Looking at the ground, trying to regain his balance, his gaze drifted over to the girl. His attacker. She lay almost peacefully on her side on the blacktop path. Blood was all over her mouth and chest. _His _blood. Becoming even more dizzy, Blake began running. Running in what he hoped was the direction of home.

He didn't stop until he reached the front door of his family's home. Blake stumbled through the door onto the first floor landing and for a split second considered the options before him: fall down the steps to find his dad in his basement office, stumble through kitchen to get to his mom, who was likely in the living room, or climb the stairs and lock himself in his room. Without thinking, Blake chose the third option, stomping up the steep stairs, using the railing for support. He rushed down the hall and nearly fell into his room. He caught himself, closed the door behind him, and locked it. Slumping against it, he tried to catch his breath, throwing his now soaked shirt down onto the grey carpet. At least the bleeding had stopped. He tried to walk as steadily as possible over to the tall mirror that was built into his closet door. Placing an arm on the door and leaning against it, he studied himself, and was disturbingly undisturbed by what he saw. A fairly large chunk of flesh had been ripped from his neck where he had been bitten, and there were claw marks on his face where his attacker had held him in place; his clothes were torn and he was totally caked with his own blood.

Blake looked over his reflection's shoulder, as one of the many posters that adorned his walls.

"Thirty Days of Night..." he read.

The poster consisted of those words in scrawled font that was made to look as if it were scribbled hastily, with a grey face in the background, its mouth filled with razor-sharp fangs and splattered with blood.

"Vampires..." Blake mumbled. "Vam...purr...purrr..."

The world flickered around him, and then it was gone.


End file.
